Page 68 of Flirting with 40

“I can’t imagine. It must feel good doing a job that makes people better.”

“It does, but you do the same.”

I laugh at his attempt. “I appreciate you putting it on the same playing field, but it isn’t. Saving lives and selling makeup isn’t really comparable.”

“It’s all about perspective. How do you know the makeup you’ve sold hasn’t helped someone to feel good about themselves when they’ve looked in the mirror? How can you discard the fact that for some people out there, a small boost to their self-esteem can mean the difference between falling into the depths of depression or a having a great day.”

I shift my head to just stare at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Do you always have this outlook on things? I mean, where did you knowing how to look at things through a different lens come from?”

He gives a sheepish shrug. “I don’t know. Reading. Listening to others. Watching way too many people’s lives end too soon in the ER forced me to look at the positive in everything. If I don’t, I’ll get pulled under the weight of it too.”

“It’s pretty amazing if you ask me.” His fingers on top of mine squeeze, and I go back to resting my head on his shoulder.

“Is that how they met?” I ask, thinking of his parents again. “Your mom and dad, I mean. Through their work?”

“The story they tell is that she saw him across the room at the hospital Christmas party. He was talking to two other women, but she said he locked eyes with her, and she knew he was the one.”

“Love at first sight?” I ask in disbelief.

“According to her, it was. It took him a few days to chase down who she was and find her. She says he took too long, but they’ve been together ever since.” There is so much affection in his voice, I can’t help but smile. “But that was thirty-something years ago.”

“I guess it’s good to know it’s really a thing that’s out there,” I murmur under my breath.

“I guess. Either that or it’s fate having you be at the right place at the right time.” He chuckles. “Who knows? It isn’t something I put much thought into. What about you? You said your mom lives in Michigan?”

“There isn’t much to tell. My father was never in the picture, so it was just us, and that woman is a whirlwind. I think she spent so much time living for me as a single mother that now she’s busy living for her. We aren’t as close as we used to be, but she fits me in when she has time.” I’m not bitter about it and love that she’s finally enjoying the life she deserves.

“Was she a fun mom?”

“I think unconventional is more like it. School wasn’t always mandatory but traveling was. Dress codes were the devil and wearing the loudest thing possible was more acceptable. Why take civics class when you can go out and protest? The type-A part of me bucked that type of upbringing, but I can appreciate it now.”

“Was it hard growing up without a dad?”

“It’s all I ever knew, so to me, it just was. Of course, I was desperate to have one so I could be like other kids, but my grandpa was always there, being my dad when my mom couldn’t be. I’ve recently wondered if that’s why I clung so tightly to my marriage for as long as I did. It died years before either one of us realized it. Now that I’ve gotten some distance, I realize it was more my fear of failing that kept us together more than anything.”

He chooses not to opine, and for that, I’m grateful. The cold water on my toes, the sun on my cheeks, and the warmth of his skin beside me are too perfect to follow that line of conversation.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Slade

“At least the guys are a little livelier now, huh?” I ask as Blakely and I try to figure out where we want to set our stuff for movie night under the stars.

Sounds luxurious. It is not.

A portable screen has been set up at the bottom end of an amphitheater. There are grass sections about ten feet wide that are then portioned off by a curved concrete step about a foot high before another section of grass. All in all, there are ten different levels of grass seating for us to spread out on.

There is also a concession stand, complete with cocktails, set up to the side.

We make our way up the levels, my eyes already scoping out the highest one . . . and for good reason.

Testosterone Ted lifts a beer bottle in greeting as we pass him, and Gemma waves animatedly at me. Harley Hal shouts from where he’s sitting in a lawn chair while Baseball Bobbie lifts his hand in a mock salute.

We definitely bonded over the shots we took and the gripes we made about Horrible Heather. Gripes none of them would ever have voiced in front of their wives or girlfriends, but after a little alcohol, were totally fine expressing in front of me.